


(no one) deserves the flames

by fnowae



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Anyways..., Heavy Angst, M/M, lmao not much else I can tag w/o spoilers but hAVE FUN YALL, the fuck are these ships I don't know what I'm doing sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnowae/pseuds/fnowae
Summary: Patrick is not a stranger to fire safety.In fact, one of his biggest fears is a fire getting out of control - he doesn't like the idea of smoke and flames and heat everywhere. He doesn't like it at all.Which is why it's so horribly ironic that he, of all people, falls asleep without putting the small fire burning in the fireplace out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aha. So. Funny story: I like writing things that make me sad. 
> 
> This is one of those things. 
> 
> I did my research on this one and this is totally scientifically accurate. Okay, generally. What I mean is the general concept could actually happen. Yep. Science. 
> 
> So, without further ado...
> 
> Enjoy !

Patrick is not a stranger to fire safety. 

In fact, one of his biggest fears is a fire getting out of control - he doesn't like the idea of smoke and flames and heat everywhere. He doesn't like it at all. 

Which is why it's so horribly ironic that he, of all people, falls asleep without putting the small fire burning in the fireplace out. 

He wakes up suddenly and immediately decides he must be in hell. It's too hot and everything is bright and he chokes on every breath he takes in. His mind is too bleary from sleep to connect the dots until he sits up on the couch and realizes he's surrounded by flames. 

He tries to yell " _shit!_ ", but his effort only leads to him choking on more smoke, so he decides maybe less swearing and more _getting the fuck out of here_ is a good idea. 

Patrick had considered himself completely prepared in case of a fire. He had an escape plan to get out of danger, he could dial 911 at record speed, and he had done his best to prevent a fire from occurring in the first place. He was certain if such a thing ever did happen, he would be able to get to safety easily. 

This is not the case. 

His pre-made exit plan is blocked off by flames. He considers calling 911, but since he still can't speak through the smoke without breaking into a coughing fit, he supposes it's pointless. Besides, judging by the state his house seems to be in, the neighbors have probably already called. (At least, he hopes so.)

Patrick is too tired and out of it to remember exactly how he got outside, but he's glad he did. He vaguely remembers leaping through a gap in the flames and somehow getting out a hole in the wall, choking on more smoke all the while, and now he's lying on the cold, damp grass outside his house, purposefully averting his gaze from the burning building. Even then, he sees the light of the fire reflected in every drop of dew on the grass, and shining off the street and sidewalk in front of him. He tries closing his eyes to avoid it, but it hurts, so he opens them again. 

He's still very out of it, but he swears (more like hopes) he hears sirens as everything goes black. 

~*~

Patrick wakes up in a hospital room. 

It takes him a moment to piece together how he got here. He remembers the fire easily enough, but why is he in a hospital? He got out unscathed, didn't he?

Except, apparently he didn't, because he notes bandages on his right arm, and he thinks he can feel more wrapped around his right leg too. It only takes him a moment to guess that he got burned. But it doesn't seem like it's that bad, because it doesn't even seem to hurt at all, but for a slight twinge when he moves and the bandages rub against the injured skin. 

So, again. _Why is he here?_

As if on cue, the door opens and a doctor strolls in. Her short blonde hair is parted neatly and she's dressed just as cleanly and uniformly. She immediately comes across as the kind of doctor Patrick knows he's not going to like. 

"Hello..." The doctor begins, stopping to check her papers. "...Mr. Stump?"

Patrick starts to say that yes, that's him, but he just ends up choking a little. Frowning and confused, he settles for a nod. 

"I'm Dr. Rose." The doctor tells him, giving what must be meant as a reassuring smile, but really has the opposite effect. "You had a bit of a fire at your house, but you were lucky enough to mostly make it out fine."

Patrick wants to ask her why he's here if he mostly made it out fine, but again, the words aren't coming out. 

But Dr. Rose seems to get what he's trying to ask, because she says, "You're probably wondering what you're doing here. You did make it out mostly unscathed. However, you sustained a couple first to second-degree burns, and, as is our main concern, you inhaled an unusual amount of smoke, even for someone in a fire of that size."

Patrick gets a sinking feeling he knows where this is going. 

"We did some tests, and that level of smoke inhalation seems to have seriously damaged your throat." Dr. Rose continues, pausing as if she knows that Patrick knows what she's going to say next, and she _knows_ how much it's going to hurt him. "And your vocal cords."

No. _No_. Of course, that's exactly where Patrick had thought this was going, but he had held out all hope that maybe, just maybe, it would be something else. 

"Unfortunately, it's very likely that this severe damage will leave you permanently mute." Dr. Rose finishes. 

Patrick does try to scream. In fact, he doesn't think he's ever tried so hard to do anything in his life. But of course, he can't do that either. No sound - words, screams, or otherwise - will pass his lips. Maybe not ever again. 

So instead, he starts crying. 

Dr. Rose watches him, emotionless the whole time. She seems bored, which just makes Patrick want to cry harder. The second he starts to quiet down, she says, "You have some visitors who will be in to see you shortly," and leaves abruptly, as if she doesn't care that she's just told Patrick the worst news of his life. 

Patrick holds back another wave of tears, and instead, he sleeps. 

~*~

Patrick had completely ignored the doctor telling him that he had visitors, but he recalls it when he wakes up again to see two people sitting in the room with him, on chairs that are turned to face away from him. They're talking quietly to each other, and Patrick can't make out what they're saying. He shifts a little in his hospital bed, which seems to alert the visitors to the fact that he's awake, because they both turn around at once, and Patrick sees now that it's Pete and Joe. 

He almost tries to say hi, but he stops himself when he remembers. He can't do that. He has to hold back more tears. 

Instead, he settles for a little wave. 

"Um, hey." Pete says quietly. 

Patrick doesn't know how to respond. As far as he can figure, his communication options are limited to three things: waving for hello, nodding for yes, or shaking his head for no. He's already greeted them and it would be weird to do it again, but "yes" or "no" isn't an answer to "hey". 

Luckily, Joe speaks up and saves him from not knowing what to do. Unluckily, what he says is, "How are you doing?", which also cannot be answered with a yes, no, or hello. 

Patrick shrugs, which makes him realize that he has one more thing in his communication arsenal. That makes a while four things. How helpful. 

"Oh, uh...there's a notepad and pen if you want to write something down." Pete says, pointing awkwardly to, yes, a notepad and pen that's sitting neatly on the table next to Patrick's bed. 

Patrick just shrugs again. 

"Oh. Okay." Pete looks kind of disappointed, but Patrick doesn't know what he would write anyway. 

Which is ironic. He wants so badly to be able to effectively communicate (see: he wants his fucking voice back), but to be honest he really doesn't know what he'd say if he could. 

Actually, he realizes there's one thing. He grabs the notepad and pen and scribbles down, _When can I leave?_ , then thrusts it at Pete and Joe. After a moment of hesitation, Joe takes it. 

When he reads what Patrick's written, he laughs and says, "Oh, last I heard you're out tomorrow."

Patrick gestures for him to hand the notepad back, and he does. Once he has it, Patrick writes under his last message, _Great. Can't wait to get out of here._

This time Pete takes the notepad, and he holds it so Joe can read too. Amused, Pete says, "Yeah, I don't blame you."

Suddenly, Patrick has a thought that makes him start to panic a little. He'd been thinking he was happy to go home, but...he's fairly sure his house is...well, probably no longer intact enough to live in. He literally grabs the notepad out of Pete's hand and scribbles under the rest of his writing, _Wait, where am I going?_

Pete takes the notepad again, but he doesn't seem to get what Patrick means. But Joe, reading over Pete's shoulder, does. 

Joe clears his throat and suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Well, you're definitely not going home...obviously. I'm sorry."

Patrick makes a "go on" gesture (would you look at that, he has one more way to communicate), and Joe continues, "Um...right now, the plan is...you stay with us for a while?"

Patrick takes the notepad back immediately, but he can't figure out exactly what to write. He's not upset about that idea, exactly, he just...he doesn't know, actually. He'd much rather go home, but it's pretty obvious that's not gonna happen. And honestly, the thought of crashing at Pete and Joe's place for a while is more appealing than any other option (like a hotel or trying to find a new place for himself so soon), but still...

He finally writes, _I don't want to bother you guys._

Pete takes the note and immediately responds, "Oh, god no, you wouldn't be bothering us at all! Don't worry about that. You need a place to stay, and we're offering. If it really upsets you, you can find your own place as soon as possible. It doesn't have to be forever."

Patrick doesn't really want to find his own place right now, but he doesn't write that down. Instead, what he writes when Pete hands the notepad back to him is, _If you're sure, that'd be nice. Thank you._

Joe takes the notepad this time, and he smiles a little when he reads it. "Okay. Good. Then when you get out tomorrow, we'll just take you home with us. Is that alright?"

Patrick doesn't need the notepad back this time. He just nods. 

"Okay, good." Joe says, looking relieved. 

Patrick takes the notepad back again and writes, _I'm gonna sleep now. I'm tired. See you tomorrow?_

Pete and Joe both try to take the notepad at the same time and end up both holding it as they read. Pete looks up and says, "Yeah, okay, of course. See you tomorrow."

Joe nods and repeats, "See you tomorrow."

The second the door closes, Patrick finds himself breaking into tears again, the brief moment of calm brought on by having an almost-normal conversation with his friends smashed to pieces as everything that's happened comes crashing down again. 

He isn't sure he's going to sleep tonight after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? continuing things? amazing. 
> 
> I've planned this thing way too much. I love pain too much. I'm sorry. 
> 
> And quick note: if you missed the ship tags or didn't catch it in the first chapter, Pete and Joe are an established couple in this. For some reason. I didn't even ship it before this, but after writing it I kinda do? Fun. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

The drive to Pete and Joe's place is quiet, and not just because Patrick isn't talking. Regardless of Patrick's current vocal capabilities, Pete and Joe should still be talking, or at least have the car radio on. But they aren't, and they don't. Pete is driving, silently staring at the road ahead of him, and Joe is quiet too, doing nothing but occasionally looking worriedly to the back of the car like he thinks Patrick is going to disappear. 

Patrick just sits there, mostly still but for occasionally fidgeting with the notepad that's sitting in his lap. He constantly considers writing something, but again, he has no idea what he would write. That horrible irony is back. 

It's late, and the sun is setting as they drive. Patrick finds himself watching it out the window, wondering when they'll get there. 

Finally, after what seems like forever, they pull into Pete and Joe's driveway and get out. Patrick slips the notepad into his pocket where the pen already is, just in case. He follows Pete and Joe quietly inside. His right leg hurts a little when he puts his weight on it and the bandage wrapped around it rubs against the burnt skin underneath, but he ignores it. It's not too bad. 

Pete and Joe's house is small but nice, with one bedroom, two bathrooms, and a conjoined kitchen and living room, and it looks so lived-in and so somehow neatly messy that Patrick feels like he's disturbing everything just by being here. Again he remembers why he was reluctant to agree to this; he feels like he's ruining something that's perfect on its own. 

He sticks his hand in his pocket to get the notepad and pen, and Pete and Joe both notice and turn around almost simultaneously. 

Patrick scribbles down, _I don't think I've ever been here_ and holds it out for Pete and Joe to read. 

"Oh, yeah, you haven't." Pete responds, looking thoughtful. "I mean, we only moved in like, four months ago, but I'm still kind of surprised we haven't had you over yet."

Patrick looks around again. He feels like there's no way this place has only been occupied for four months. It feels more like Pete and Joe have been here their whole lives, and once again he gets the feeling he's throwing off some sacred balance. 

Joe says, "You can have the bed. We can sleep on the floor."

Patrick makes a face and starts furiously scribbling. _No. I'm not throwing you guys out of your own bedroom. I can take the couch. Besides, god knows what's happened in that bed._

"Haha, so funny." Pete says when he reads that, rolling his eyes, and Joe laughs. "And if you really want to have the couch, go ahead, I guess."

Patrick nods. 

"Okay." Pete agrees, nodding as well. 

"You want anything to eat?" Joe asks Patrick. "I think we have leftover spaghetti we can heat up or something?"

Patrick nods again. 

"Okay, cool." Joe heads to the kitchen to get the aforementioned spaghetti. 

Pete turns to Patrick and asks the question Patrick has been dreading. "How are you doing?"

Patrick is...not doing well. As much as he isn't completely breaking down right now, he also isn't in the best mood, either. The only thing keeping him from such a breakdown is trying to keep it together in front of his friends. 

This is not what he writes. What he writes is, _I'm fine._

"You sure?" Pete asks doubtfully when he sees Patrick's message. 

Patrick nods. 

Pete doesn't look like he believes Patrick at all, but nonetheless he says, "Okay."

Patrick hears the microwave beep, and Joe emerges from the kitchen with a plate of spaghetti and a fork, which he proceeds to hand to Patrick, as soon as Patrick stuffs the notepad and pen back into his pocket so he can take the food. 

"You can sit down at the table if you want." Joe says. 

Patrick nods and does just that.

As Patrick eats, Joe heats up a plate for himself and one for Pete, and the three of them end up sitting at the table eating. 

It's as silent as the ride here was. Patrick desperately wants to break the uncomfortable silence, but he knows he can't, and that really bothers him. 

Finally, once he's cleaned his plate, he pulls the notepad and pen back out and writes, _I think I'm going to go to bed now._

He shoves it to Joe, who moves it so Pete can read too. 

"Oh, uh, before you do that, the doctor said you need to change your bandages every night." Pete replies, gesturing to the bandage on Patrick's arm as if to somehow emphasize what he's saying, even though it doesn't really need emphasizing. "To prevent infection or whatever."

Patrick vaguely remembers that, among other things the doctor told him before he left that he didn't pay too much attention to. He frowns, takes the notepad back, and scribbles down, _I really don't want to do that. Would you mind?_

Pete takes the paper this time, and nods when he reads it. "Yeah. No problem. I get it."

Joe sees the note too, and also nods in agreement. 

Pete gets up and walks to the bathroom, and while he's gone Joe gathers up the plates and puts them in the dishwasher. As Joe comes back to the table, Pete emerges with a roll of gauze. 

"Okay." He says, sitting down again and moving his chair to be closer to Patrick. "I'll do your arm first, alright?"

Patrick nods, thinking about how he's been doing that a lot today. 

Pete unwraps the bandage on Patrick's upper arm and pulls it off, setting it aside. 

Patrick tentatively looks down at his arm where the bandage had been, and he immediately has to look away again. He doesn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. 

The only other time he can remember burning himself was when he was trying to cook and accidentally brushed his hand against a stove burner. That had only left a dime-sized patch of red and sore skin, and that's what he had incorrectly believed all burns looked like. 

But this is not a small, red mark. This is almost the entirety of his upper arm, bright red, and blistering. For some reason, Patrick had assumed since it hadn't hurt too much, it couldn't have been that bad. But obviously he was wrong. And for whatever reason, he just can't look at it. But his eyes keep gravitating back anyways, and each time he glimpses it he feels sick. He thinks he's going to cry. 

"Patrick. Hey." Pete says. "You okay?"

Patrick nods, but he can definitely feel tears threatening to fall, and he knows Pete knows he's lying. 

"Patrick, look at me." Joe speaks up, and Patrick looks. Joe continues, "You don't have to look at it if it's bothering you, okay? Just...look at me, and Pete will put the bandage back on and you won't have to worry about seeing it anymore."

Patrick takes a deep breath and nods, doing just that, and doing everything he can to focus on Joe and not his arm. 

He feels Pete wrapping a fresh bandage around the arm, but he does his best not to look. 

"Done." Pete says, and Patrick involuntarily turns to look. His arm is bandaged again, with none of the burned skin showing, and he lets out a sigh of relief. 

"I'm going to do the leg now." Pete tells him. "Just look at Joe again, alright? That worked."

Patrick doesn't nod this time, but he does turn back to Joe like Pete had said to. 

He manages to not look at all as he feels Pete pushing his pants up to the knee and taking off the bandage that covers a fair part of his lower leg. His leg hurts worse than his arm, so he has to assume it looks worse too, and he's glad he never sees it. 

Pete wraps up his leg and pushes the leg of his pants down again, then says, "Alright. You're good."

Patrick looks away from Joe, grabs the notepad, and writes, as big as he can, _Thank you._

"No problem." Pete says with a smile. 

"Yeah, we'd do anything to help." Joe adds, mirroring Pete's grin. 

Patrick can't help but smile too as he writes, _You guys are the best. Seriously._

"It's nothing." Pete responds. "Really."

Joe nods in agreement but doesn't say anything to add on. 

_I'm going to go to sleep for real now,_ Patrick writes. 

"Alright, cool." Joe says. "We probably need to sleep too."

"Yeah, we should." Pete agrees. "I'll grab blankets for you, and then get some rest."

Patrick nods, because it's less effort than writing "okay" on the notepad. 

Pete gets up and returns quickly with two blankets and a pillow, and sets them on the couch. 

"Goodnight, Patrick." Pete says.

"'Night." Joe adds.

Patrick cuts off a wave of panic that starts when he realizes he can't say "goodnight" back, and just nods. 

Pete and Joe disappear into their room, leaving Patrick alone. He goes to the couch and lays down, laying the blankets over himself and setting his head on the pillow. 

And then he sleeps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus this is getting sad I'm sorry. 
> 
> This chapter's gonna be sad and the next chapter is gonna be sad but chapter five is gonna be a little sweet so just hold out until then, okay?
> 
> And thanks to y'all who have sent me headcanons about this!! I love them!! Thank you!!!
> 
> (This chapter ft. a mention of Community because it's my favorite show whoop)

_Everything is too hot._

_It's too hot and too bright and everything is burning and Patrick knows that logically, this can't be real, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like it is._

_He isn't quite sure where he even is, where he's even supposed to be. It almost looks like his house, but everything is too blurry and bright and wrong and he feels like it isn't._

_Everything about this is wrong and too hot and too fucking bright ad Patrick tries to scream but he can't and god, he should know he can't, and-_

Patrick wakes up on Pete and Joe's couch, exactly where he'd fallen asleep. His face is pressed into the pillow, and when he sits up, he sees that the pillow has tear stains. He finds remnants of tears on his face, too, and pauses to wipe them off. 

"Hey, you're up!"

Patrick jumps a little at the voice, and turns to see Pete standing by the stove. Patrick smells bacon. He waves feebly at Pete. 

"Joe went to the store." Pete tells him, turning to flip the aforementioned bacon. 

He turns back around and frowns. "Are you okay?"

Patrick shrugs. 

"What's wrong?" Pete asks, his frown turning into a look of pure concern. 

Patrick reaches to the table next to the couch, where he'd put his notepad and pen before he'd gone to sleep. He quickly writes down, _Its nothing. Just a bad dream. I'm fine._

He gets up and brings the note over to Pete. Pete reads it and looks back up to Patrick. "Are you really okay? You look like you've been crying."

 _It wasn't that bad._ Patrick writes. That's a total lie, but Pete doesn't have to know that. 

"Alright." Pete says, and goes back to cooking. 

As Pete is turning off the stove and getting ready to serve breakfast (aside from the bacon, he'd made eggs too), he says, "So, uh, last night before I actually went to bed, I did a little research, 'cause I figured you having to write everything down isn't the best arrangement."

Patrick gives him a quizzical look, hoping he'll take the hint to go on. 

He does. "Well, I mean, I found this kind of interesting thing? There's an app you can get where you can type stuff in and it plays it out loud. So, like, you wouldn't have to constantly use the notepad."

Patrick immediately shakes his head. 

"Why not?" Pete asks, frowning. 

Patrick pulls out his notepad, trying his best to put his problem with that idea into words. Finally, he writes, _I don't want a voice unless it's mine._

Pete reads this and sighs. "Okay. That's fine. Just...at least consider it, okay?"

Patrick hesitates, but reluctantly nods. 

"Thanks." Pete gives him a small smile and hands him a plate of bacon and eggs. 

Though he isn't too open to the idea Pete had suggested, Patrick is still really thankful that Pete took the time to try and find ways to help him. It's kind of sweet, really. 

Right as Pete is setting the other two plates on the table and Patrick is sitting down, the front door opens and Joe walks in, carrying a bag of groceries on each arm. 

"Right on time!" Pete exclaims with a grin. "Want some food?"

"Yes, thanks." Joe replies, walking in and dropping his bags on the counter. 

He heads over to the table and sits down in the empty chair. Pete leans over and kisses his cheek. Patrick makes a face at them. 

Joe notices and laughs. "Oh, shut up."

Patrick just grins. 

The food is pretty good (Patrick had never pegged Pete as the type to ever produce decent food when cooking, but apparently it's possible), and Patrick eats contentedly. He's already almost forgotten his earlier conversation with Pete, and he's long forgotten his dream. 

"So, I was thinking we could all just hang out today?" Pete suggests through a mouthful of food. "That one movie channel is doing a marathon of shitty rom-coms and there's no way in hell I'm missing out on that."

"That sounds fun." Joe agrees, then turns to Patrick and asks, "Is that okay with you?"

Patrick nods enthusiastically. That sounds super fun, actually. He loves movie marathons of any kind, and horrible rom-coms may be just what he needs right now. 

They all finish eating and, after everything from breakfast is cleaned up, they move to the couch, and Pete turns the TV on. Pete and Joe take one side of the couch (when Pete rests his head on Joe's shoulder, Patrick makes another face and Joe flips him off), and Patrick sits on the other, leaning on the arm of the couch. They've turned the TV on right on time for the whole marathon event to start, so they quiet down and watch. 

Everything is going fine. They've made it through three movies (all so horrible they were hilarious), and at some point Joe had gotten leftover pizza out of the fridge, and they've been snacking on that since the last movie. 

But then, suddenly, everything is not fine. 

The main character of the movie that's playing now is planning a romantic dinner for him and the girl he's trying to impress. Which is all fine and good. 

Until he lights the candles. 

Patrick doesn't know why, but he _can't look_. Everything is becoming bright and hot again and he forces himself to stare at the fabric of the couch but his breathing is still short and he stills swears it's getting warmer and warmer and-

"Patrick, shit, are you okay?"

Patrick blinks back tears (dear god, when did he start crying?) and looks up. Pete and Joe are both looking at him, concerned. The TV is off, though Patrick can't say he remembers it being turned off, and the room is silent. 

"Are you okay?" Pete repeats. 

Patrick nods, not wanting to have to take the time to pick up the notepad. 

"Really?" Pete asks, frowning. 

Patrick hesitates, then decides against lying again. He shakes his head. 

"What happened?" Joe speaks up from behind Pete. 

Now Patrick has to get the notepad. He grabs it off the table and writes, _I'm not really sure._

"Did something bother you?" Pete asks worriedly. 

Patrick avoids eye contact as he scribbles down, _This is going to sound pathetic, but I think it was the candle._

"That's not pathetic at all." Pete assures him when he sees the note. "I'm just worried about you. I mean, you mentioned that bad dream you had last night, too."

"What dream?" Joe asks. 

Pete starts to answer, but Patrick puts a hand up to indicate that he wants to do it. 

_I had a bit of a nightmare last night. It's not that bad._ he writes, and shows Joe. 

Joe gives him a look. "Are you sure? I mean, it kinda of seems like it _is_ that bad."

Patrick writes down, _I'll be fine. Really._

"No, really, you're kind of worrying us." Pete says. He tries to put a hand on Patrick's shoulder, but Patrick shrugs it off. 

He points to his last note again. _I'll be fine_. 

"Okay..." Pete sighs reluctantly. "But if anything bothers you like that again, you tell me or Joe, okay?"

 _Yeah, sure._ Patrick writes. 

"We should probably watch something else." Joe suggests quietly. "Just in case."

Patrick is going to protest, because he definitely doesn't need them to do that, but before he can, Pete chimes in, "Hey, we should watch that show we found? What was that one?" He looks to Joe for an answer. 

"What, Community?" Joe asks, looking amused. "Yeah, sure. That should be fine." He looks to Patrick. "Is that okay?"

 _Never heard of it._ Patrick writes. _But I'm sure I'll like it if you guys do._

"We are totally binge watching it!" Pete announces, grinning. 

Patrick's minor breakdown is long forgotten as they all settle down to watch the show. 

Well, it's forgotten to all but Patrick, who can't stop worrying about how something as small as a little candle flame had gotten to him so much.

**Author's Note:**

> friendly reminder you can always send me headcanons/ideas/prompts at my tumblr: vicesandvelociraptors 
> 
> and comments are always appreciated !!
> 
> thanks for reading !


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